6. Born Ruffians - Red, Yellow & Blue

I try to hate as many things as possible. Growing up, many children have fathers, teachers, or steroid-addicted professional athletes to look up to. For me, my role models were always disgruntled and angry old men. These guys have the right idea: sit on your couch in your yellowing V-neck and cum-stained sweatpants and hate as many things as possible until life seems just a little better. And let me tell you this much: hating brings happiness (also by hating everything, you make yourself appear cultured and articulate). I've hated things so hard, I've cried tears of joy.

One time I even made up a word just to hate it (the word was plart if you were wondering).

Lately though, I've just been liking way too many things. I can't remember the last time I told a girl she has man-hands, booed at an elementary school play, or reassured a mall-cop that he will stay a virgin until he stops riding around on that Segway (do you seriously need a helmet for one of those things?). I even stopped yelling at my television.

But worst of all, I officially no longer hate Canada. There was one point where I suggested to my state Senator that America should start dumping all of our trash and human waste in Canada. I even relabeled every map in my high school to read "America's Little Brother with Down Syndrome" where Canada was. But nowadays, Canada plarts out so many comedians, actors, musicians, hockey players, and beers that don't suck, I have no choice but to like the country.

Dear Mexico, I still hate your El Camino driving guts.

Canada's most recent reason to not hate them?

6. Born Ruffians - Red, Yellow & Blue

Coming in at #6 and winner of the "Shit, Why Couldn't This Be From America? Award" is Red, Yellow & Blue by those Canadian bastards, Born Ruffians (for the record I am gonna have trouble no longer referring to people from Canada as "Canadian bastards").

Many have deemed the Canadian trio's debut just another work of "indie rock" (I hate this term just as much as I hate the mustache on every Mexican's upper lip). But the album is much more fine-tuned and quirky than calling it "indie rock" implies. Throughout the whole album, Born Ruffians attempt to produce a sound bigger than the trio itself and by doing so, create a fragile yet committed sound. Not shying away from twangy guitar strums, crude harmonies, and over-the-top bass leads, Born Ruffians nut-tap you with group yelps and stiff intensity changes, all while shrieking lyrics - at times - more desperate than a fat girl. The music they write is frantically confident enough to stand on its own without any overbearing effects. They keep the album's sound as basic as the primary colors in the title, yet still yield emotion. It's rock music that is easy to like and still peculiar enough to last. With the album, Born Ruffian's create a knack for themselves in Canada's "indie rock" scene (still hating...) and give me another reason I can no longer hate our brothers from the north/ those damn Canadian bastards.

Here's their myspace.
Here's a Red, Yellow & Blue mediafire link.
Here's Canada.